


A safe place

by Tiisshu



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Caring!Jaskier, Common Cold, Geralt tries to stifle in public settings but they're too strong, Sickfic, Sneezing, embarrassed Geralt, half stifles, sick!Geralt, sneezefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22475059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiisshu/pseuds/Tiisshu
Summary: This is the 2nd sickfic trade I've done for The W/itcher Fandom on Tumblr. @Tiisshu for @lovely-starry-universe. Guidelines were to be a coldfic, Geralt, and minor angst. Bonus points if the Big Guy tries to stifle but can't make them silent because of how strong/loud they are.Enjoy :3
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	A safe place

**• • •**

The sounds of the swamp had never been louder, thought Geralt of Rivia, as he trudged knee-deep through the murky waters, his gear strapped to his back save for the knife he usually kept in his boot which he used to cut through some of the brush as he slowly made his way back to Roach and the path.

It had been three days since he had last supped at the Inn in Yantra and equally as long since he'd been able to rest. The contract he had picked up was for a Grave Hag said to be haunting this one stretch of swamp land where some of the fallen soldiers from recent skirmishes still lay.

It was their petrifying remains that drew foul creatures from the dark with their demonic hunger and sharp teeth. Geralt had been prepared for what he was told lay out there in the swamp east of the little village, he wasn't however, prepared for what he found.

The job proved to be something different entirely- the unreliability of witnesses always the bane of his profession- with the Witcher stumbling upon a Rotfiend nest with several large Rotfiends that didn't appreciate the surprise.

Geralt had dispatched them even without the proper oil for his blade and without the benefit of a potion, but he had sustained enough injury that he had been forced to spend another night in the swamp, meditating and trying to keep the muck out of his wounds while his Witcher constitution set to repair the torn tissue. All in all, a draining process that left him feeling slightly off kilter and damp right through to his bones. 

A shiver ripped through the Witcher then with enough severity that he almost lost his balance and he thought, not for the first time, that he should be more mindful of his Swallow and Golden Oriole potions before embarking on even the easiest of contracts. He rubbed the back of one gloved hand across his sweat-soaked forehead and continued on.

He had told Jaskier a day and a half at most, three days ago, and he was sure to be worked up into some sort of theatrics by now. Theatrics that the Witcher knew masked an almost obsessive worry in the younger man- that one day, the Witcher really wouldn't return. He didn't feel like inflicting that upon the Bard any longer than was necessary.

Geralt sniffled thickly and scrubbed hard at his nose, his eyes watering slightly at the edges from the rough treatment.

On and off since he had begun the trek back to where he had left Roach he felt the slow slack-jawed effort of a sneeze building deep in his sinuses. He was used to suffering through longer build ups whenever he did find need to clear his nasal passages but this felt heavier, and more insistent as if it was using too much of his waning strength.

_Hih' ... Heh'.._

His breath hitched uselessly, deeply, before it began to settle and he was left teary-eyed and wanting. He scrubbed his nose again and sighed.

It wasn't often that a Witcher would find themselves under the weather, but given the stress of circumstances and the quality of the murky water he had been waist deep in for the past few days.... A couple days and he'd be himself again, but the process wouldn't be helped along until he could get some rest and something to eat. He needed to get back to the Inn, no matter how much his body scream at him to stop. _Take a moment. Please._

He managed a few minutes longer before the sneeze returned to it's aborted efforts with vigor. He licked his lips once just as his breath hitched and he was thrown head-long into a staggering sneeze that made his ears pop and scraped the back of his throat uncomfortably. He had to clutch a nearby tree for stability.

_**Hih' HAESSSHHUU!** _

He coughed then, wincing as it rumbled deep in his chest and raised tired Golden eyes skyward, wondering idly if he should charge extra for the cold.

**• • •**

Three days.

Geralt had said that a Grave Hag would take a day of careful trap-setting and a half for loose ends. He had said that and left Jaskier behind at the Inn, three days ago.

Now the bard wasn't one to really let a true worry show, but he felt his attention drawn to the door when ever a patron entered and each time he was disappointed when that familiar white hair didn't appear. It wasn't until that morning that he had really begun to worry. A Grave hag didn't sound _too_ dangerous, at least the way Geralt told it and he had once seen Geralt cut down a man mere seconds after unsheathing his sword and all without breaking a sweat. Surely he could handle this.

"Honestly...", Jaskier said to no one as he picked up his lute to try and distract himself. At least if he played something he could take his mind off the passing hours and maybe make a little coin himself.

It was on the third verse that the tavern doors swung open and a pair of golden eyes met and considered Sky blue ones briefly before Geralt turned to the Bar keep to collect on the contract. The stiffness of his body was obvious and the state of his armor said volumes about how the hunt had gone and Jaskier swallowed a frown as he kept his eyes on his friend.

Geralt leaned heavily on the bar as if it tired him to be standing at all and the bard could see the way the Witcher's silhouette seemed to waver and shake as if provoked by a chill. He couldn't imagine how miserable the conditions out there in the muck and ruin were to leave his friend so disheveled.

Jaskier kept in time with his song, weaving his way through the patrons towards the bar and Geralt. He couldn't hear them talking over the sound of his own voice and the strumming of his lute but he could tell from the bar keeps face that things hadn't gone to plan but was relieved when he saw the man push a large purse of coin across the counter.

 _Ah, so he managed it!_ He thought as he finished up the song and bowed dramatically for the smattering of patrons who weren't too drunk to appreciate fine music. He straightened in time to see Geralt's head snap downward as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle two consecutive sneezes against a fist.

_Hih.. Hn **NGXT**! Hhh-!... **NGXT** 'iew!_

Jaskier noted the way the Bar keep still jumped at the sound knowing full well that as far as sneezing went Geralt couldn't help the volume and as for containing the release ... Well, it reminded him of this story Yennefer had told him once about trying to bottle lightening. Except in this case, it was a hurricane. 

_**HhHH!- HNNGXT!** _

"Bless you!", Jaskier offered as he sided up next to Geralt at the bar. This close to the Witcher and Jaskier could smell the damp that clung to his friend and could easily see the pinched expression of headache just below the surface of the usual scowl. While normally of pale complexion, Geralt's face had signs of irritation around his nose where he'd obviously been unkind to it in hopes to quell an itch. Dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes aged the Witcher in ways his hair never did. In all, Geralt of Rivia looked a right mess.

"Hmm", Geralt grunted in response and took up the coin purse. He nodded to the bar keep who looked a little weary to be standing so close to a Witcher. A seemingly sick one at that who was leaving a trail of mud across the floor.

Geralt ignored the looks a few patrons gave him as a cough tried to rattle out of him only to be suppressed and swallowed.

Not only did he feel completely drained and chilled to the core, but the weight of all those eyes on him was making Geralt feel slightly overheated and on edge. He was never really comfortable around people and this day in particular he felt suffocated and in need of an out.

It was true that at this point in his life, Geralt, was very used to being stared at. To see a sea of people parting before you because the very thought of your touch was revolting. Now, to see pity on their faces, it was all too much. As quickly as he was able he retreated to the back stairwell and headed up to their rented room. Each footfall heavier then the last until he was practically swaying on his feet just inside the door to their room.

Jaskier followed, stopping only momentarily to alert a servant to begin filling the tub in the adjacent room to theirs. He figured that out of the two of them, he had more experience with being under the weather. In fact, in the handful of years he'd known the man, he had yet to see him brought down to this level of human misery.

If it weren't so wretched to watch, Jaskier might have jested with Geralt about it. However the air currently circling his friend told him that the Witcher was beyond humor at the moment and in need of something a little more base.

Geralt moved sluggishly needing Jaskier's guiding hand to find his way to the bureau , unbuckling his armor and tiredly pulling layer after layer of soiled wet cloth off his body that he tossed in a heap at his feet. He paused at his belt, his concentration broken as his breath caught and he gasped suddenly sneezing so hard that for a second he was a blur of white as his head snapped down with a thunderous quartet that Jaskier was surprised the Witcher had enough strength to remain standing for.

_**Uh- HAASSSHUH! HIIIISHHIEW! Hhh!- Huh' ISSHUH! Hnng'NGXXT!** _

"No wonder it took so long- Bless you by the way- you probably kept scaring the Grave Hag away with those", Jaskier teased not unkindly, as he gathered the cast aside gear and brought it into the hall to be taken to be cleaned.

"...Nod a Grave Hag", Geralt corrected, eyes downcast, swallowing hard after he spoke as if the words had come out edgewise in his throat and had hurt.

" Ended ub being Rodfiends".

Jaskier grimaced, turning his back to give Geralt a moment to get into the tub.

Once Geralt had settled into the hot water with a scratchy sigh, Jaskier set to mixing a combination of herbs he had discovered a year or so previous that worked wonders for congestion. After crushing some of the herbs in the Mortar, he turned and dumped them into the foot of the tub with a flourish.

Geralt had once commented that it made him feel like he was being marinated, which displeased Jaskier because how could you call yourself civilized without proper bathing techniques. Honestly.

(Un)Luckily for the Witcher, Jaskier was well-versed with personal hygiene and just how to convalesce in style. This time though, Geralt seemed to be at his limit and merely watched with glassy golden eyes as his mind began to unwind and settle. He hadn't realized how much he needed this, this familiarity, this ..this... Fucking bath.

It didn't take long for the aromatics to start up and soon the air in the small bathing chamber was heavy with a slight minty scent that felt almost crisp to the Bard but pleasant. He was certain that it would help alleviate some of the congestion Geralt seemed to be suffering from which in turn would help him sleep and heal.

"Rotfiends? Gods, what a right cock up that was then", he said finally- deciding to fill some of the silence even if several minutes had passed, he was certain Geralt hadn't even noticed.

Geralt rumbled deep in his chest as agreement and sunk lower in the water so he could rest his head against the rim and close his eyes but only a moment passed before he was wrenching himself back into a sitting position to sneeze into cupped hands, his head bobbing forward enough to wet the long strands of his hair.

_Hh-! Hih' **ESSSHIEW!** Huh'... **Hagk'TSUU!**_

He groaned and his breath caught again, this time to send him into an unforgiving coughing fit that made Jaskier wonder if he had perhaps swallowed some of the muck out there in the swamp. It was enough of a concern that a shiver of anxiety began to crawl up his back at the possibilities.

What would he do if Geralt suddenly worsened? _Could he get Pneumonia?_  
Jaskier rushed to his side and thumped him helpfully on the back until the coughing started to abate.

The Witcher in question, having heard the sudden spike in the Bard's heart rate turned to squeeze Jaskier on the shoulder with a large reassuring hand.

"I'mb al- _hhH! **Hng'SSHIEW!**_ \- alridghd".

"Bless you, yes I can see that alright", Jaskier snarked, purposefully hitting the hard "T" in Alright for emphasis on his side of things. Geralt had the decency to look at least mildly annoyed but the heat behind it fizzled out faster than a candle on a rainy day.

To be fair, Geralt was probably telling the truth. Jaskier wouldn't be surprised if by this time the following evening the Witcher would already be well on his way to full health and complaining that it was time to move on but for right now he needed rest, quiet, and food.

"I'm going to see if there is any stew left in the kitchen from last night. The cook has managed some sort of miracle with herbs and chicken that I think you'll appreciate. Listen, **Do.not.fall.asleep.in.this.Tub** Geralt of Rivia or so help me, all of Velen and Novigrad will hear of your sniffles".

Geralt huffed but couldn't hide the small smile as he settled back against the polished wood rim..

"Thagks, Jaskier".


End file.
